


A Self-Deprication Chamber - Dec 12, 2020

by Inky_moro



Series: Anno Uno Scribere [29]
Category: Original Work, Unus Annus - Fandom
Genre: 365 days to write, Anno Uno Scribere, Based On: Floating in a Real Sensory Deprivation Tank, Dec 12, Memento mori, Unus Annus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_moro/pseuds/Inky_moro
Summary: thank you eef, for being unable to say sensory-deprivation chamber, and inspiring me to write this.
Series: Anno Uno Scribere [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016157
Kudos: 1





	A Self-Deprication Chamber - Dec 12, 2020

“Worthless.”  
“I am Worthless.”

The miniscule room, more of a closet really (and not a fancy walk-in one), was encased in shadow. No light breached it, even from the crack in the door. It was as if everything was dark, silent. Everything except for her. 

“Nobody gives a shit about me, and why would they?”

She kept repeating it, over and over and over. It was odd. She was crying as well, invisible tears streaming down her cheeks. Tears no one would know about, for no one else was there. No one even walked by the door, or if they did they had silent footsteps and ignored the sobs emanating from the room. 

“I suck at literally everything, and everyone knows it.”

The room absorbed the words. It had heard similar things from similar occupants over the many, many years since it had been built. It could not give comfort through touch or words, it could only listen. Listen to the whispers of tears streaming down, for the only remnant of this moment would be their stain. 

“I am useless, worthless, a failure.”

No one who had ever stumbled upon the room while she was there had been able to do anything. The room was locked from the inside, and few sounds made it past the seal of the doors. However there was always someone who waited outside, just for a minute, before sighing and walking off. Sometimes they knocked softly, or jostled the door, and she would freeze. Her sadness would turn into fear- sharp and crushing. The air would tense, and, as if they could sense it, the person would leave her in peace. 

“They just want me out. I’m taking up too much space.”

Was what she always told herself when this happened, tears and sadness returning with their full force. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. She cried until she was drained. Drained of emotion, of the necessary ingredients for tears. If the room could it would have cried with her, maybe understood her sadness. As it was, the room still only listened and watched over her, the poor thing. It didn’t pity her, but it wanted to know who had told her these things, who had caused her to be so miserable.

“There are so many people more deserving of all that I have- who wouldn’t waste the time they had left.”

She compared herself to others often. It often stopped her tears, though the sadness still encompassed her like a cloud. She would open the door, shut it behind her, and the room would wait till she came back. Sometimes it waited for what felt like forever, and there were lots of other visitors. Sometimes the room only waited a short bit of time. Either way she always came back. 

Sometimes, the room could extend its perception to the walls around it or the rest of the building. These times it would follow the path she took past the door. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right. Forward. Left. Her feet seemed to have memorized the path, she never got lost anymore, never wandered for ages through the mostly empty halls.

The room wondered where she went after she pushed through the exit.   
The room wondered when she’d be back.

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 530~


End file.
